


cut the lights off so you see what I could do

by stepquietly



Category: Magic Mike (Movies), Magic Mike XXL (2015)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Podfic Welcome, Praise Kink, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:49:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5256005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepquietly/pseuds/stepquietly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paris doesn’t even bother to look surprised when they show up at her door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cut the lights off so you see what I could do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zorana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zorana/gifts).



> Title from Missy Elliott's Work It.

Paris doesn’t even bother to look surprised when they show up at her door. 

Mike waits as she drags her eyes over them in a long once over, conscious of the way the body oil and glitter has left his skin slick and tacky under his battered t-shirt and sweats. Rome leans against his side, and he can only imagine the incredible contrast between him and her carefully put together suit and heels, the way the angle of the fedora over her eyes always leaves her looking like she’s two minutes from fucking someone over and loving it. 

Paris breathes out a long slow breath. “I thought maybe this wouldn’t happen this year,” she drawls, and steps back so Mike and Rome can enter the room.

It’s like things haven’t changed at all, Mike thinks, because he can see the way Rome’s mouth tips into a smirk as she settles herself on the edge of the bed. She’s got her knees braced far enough apart that Mike knows, even before Paris drops to her knees and crawls forward, that there’s going to be just enough place for her to fit in there.

“Oh, baby,” Rome says to her, voice smooth as honey as she tips Paris’ chin up with a finger and kisses her tenderly, at once intimate and fond, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

She holds a hand out for Mike and he comes to her side, careful to avoid Paris’ legs as he drops down next to her. He presses up against the outside of Rome’s thigh and leans in so Paris can kiss him hello, the feel of it slick and soft before she nips his lower lip hard the same way Rome did back in Savannah — a tiny reminder of their history together — before she soothes it with a flick of her tongue.

“My beautiful darlings,” Rome murmurs, and Mike may have his eyes closed but it’s easy enough to imagine her watching them kiss, even as he feels her drop a hand to the back of his neck to squeeze. It’s instinctive to arch into it, the slight pressure of that small hand grounding him. He gives into the temptation to tip his head back from Paris’ familiar kisses and roll his neck so he can breathe into the slim curves of Rome’s wrists.

“You ready to serve your queen?” Rome asks, the words somehow ringing differently now that it’s just Paris in the room to hear them with him, the two of them already on their knees. It’s not just Rome’s patter now; it’s the roots the idea grew out of. Mike and Paris have been around long enough to remember back before everyone in a room could be queen for a price, back when they all worshipped each other and Rome made the rules.

“Yes,” Mike murmurs, eyes shut tight so he can better process the rush of how much he wants this, his hips flexed tight so he doesn’t give in to the urge to work them slowly, rut his dick where it’s pressed against the length of Rome’s warm calf.

“Is my queen ready to serve her subjects?” Paris fires back, puckish, and Mike snorts helplessly, jerked out of his earlier headspace and back into the room. He’d always been the more obedient and clearly nothing’s changed.

Rome looks utterly delighted though, her smile wide as she takes her fedora off and tosses it into a corner of the room. “That’s just a good queen’s duty. To serve,” she says, shrugging out of her jacket and dropping it off the side of the bed, “and be served. To worship as well as to be worshipped.”

She casts Mike a significant look as she starts to undo the buttons of her shirt and he nods, the rhythm between them as comfortable as any routine he’s danced. This is how they always begin, with Mike stripping down and waiting for Rome. 

He pulls off his t-shirt even as he gets to his feet and toes off his sneakers. He hasn’t bothered with underwear after taking off the thong they used for the routines, so his dick briefly catches on the elastic as he pushes his sweatpants down and off, being pulled away only to slap back against his abs. 

When he turns to her, Paris already has both hands out and waiting for his assistance, smile wide as she lets him pull her up from her crouch right into the curve of his body. He drops his head to smell the faint perfume of her hair as she presses up in a long line against him, hugs her even as his dick leaves a wet smear over the front of her dress because he’s missed this. He’s missed her and the way they always fit together so easily. 

It’s like Paris knows exactly what he’s thinking because she draws his head down, arches up on her toes to kiss him, already sure that he’ll lean down to meet her. She licks into his mouth, sucks hard on his heavy lower lip like a promise. 

Mike clenches his fists in the stretchy material of her dress, pulls it up in bunches into the small of her back as he kisses back, desperate and hungry for this, all but shaking with it. Paris digs her nails into his shoulders and the sting of it has him grinding his hips into her, desperate for more contact.

“Mike,” Rome calls, her voice sharp with authority, and his head snaps up automatically, breaking the kiss, hips stilling.

He watches as she gets up off the bed and circles around the two of them. She’s left her bra and trousers still on, is still wearing the heels that aren’t about height but about the way they make her feel powerful. She’s stalking them, everything about her underlining how she’s the one in charge tonight, and it leaves Mike prickling under his skin with want.

“Softer,” Rome instructs. “Kiss her like you mean it, like she’s your whole world in this moment.” She gently grasps Paris’ jaw in her hand and pulls her into a long kiss, the two of them taking their time to feel the way their mouths fit against each other. It’s the sensuality of it that makes Mike watch them helplessly, his breath loud in his ears, a counterpoint to the slick, soft sounds they make. He can’t look away.

Rome trails a soft series of kisses from the corner of Paris’ mouth which Paris struggles to return to a scattered set that trail down Paris’ neck and over her shoulders. Paris drops her head back, soft gasps panting out of her as Rome’s hands grasp her hips tight, her mouth working small bites into the skin at the edges of her collarbones.

“Make sure she knows that she’s everything you want,” Rome calls out like she’s still instructing him as she pushes a leg between Paris’ and drags her closer.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispers as a high sharp sound of lust breaks out of Paris, voice softer now, “you’re what matters. You’re probably going to mess up these pants, aren’t you?”

Mike clenches his fists so he doesn’t touch his cock even as Paris’ husky laugh breaks over the sound of the two of them moving together. “I plan to,” she drawls, all playful competition. “I’m going to mess you right up, Rome.”

“That’s right, baby. You are,” Rome murmurs, her hands dragging Paris along her thigh so she’s working her hips, rutting like Mike wishes he could, the material of her dress pushed up to her waist so her tiny nude thong is on display. “And I don’t even care.”

“Rome, please,” Mike grits out, feeling like he’s about to shake apart. He’s leaking enough that his dick is wet, jumping occasionally as his muscles clench with the effort he’s making to keep still and watch like he’s supposed to.

Rome sighs and disentangles herself from Paris. “Take that all off,” Rome tells her pointing a finger at her clothes. 

She moves to stand in front of Mike, trails a hand down his front, ignoring the way his muscles jump at the touch, to grab his dick. 

“I suppose you want a chance to ruin these pants too?” she asks him, looking up at him so he can see the humour in her eyes.

He shrugs. “I’d at least like the chance to try,” he replies wryly, and Rome barks out a quick laugh.

“Okay,” she says consideringly, tightening her fist before stroking him once slowly, the feel of it slamming through him. “Tell you what – you treat Paris like a goddess just now and I’ll let you ride my thigh after that like a good boy.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, “please,” his arms trembling with the urge to reach out and touch her, touch himself. “Let me do it.”

She gives him another long stroke as a reward, trails a hand up his chest to pull him down into a kiss. “You’re doing so good, making me feel so good, like a queen,” she says. Then, voice low, because this part is just for the two of them. “You okay with this? Check in with me here.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding quickly. “I’m okay. I’m good,” and revels in the quick squeeze of approval she gives his neck.

“You’re better than good, Mike,” she tells him, and drops a quick reassuring kiss on his lips. “You’re mine.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, as something in him steadies at the words.

She eyes his face carefully, seems to find what she’s looking for, and nods. “Come on then,” she says, and moves to the bed where Paris is sitting, watching the two of them, legs splayed open so Mike can see how wet she is.

“You remember how to worship a woman?” Rome murmurs as Mike goes to his knees, the sound of her voice washing over him as he hums his agreement and leans in to rub his cheek against the soft skin of Paris’ thigh. He drops a kiss against the skin of her knee as he slips his hands over the tops of her thighs and up to her hips, pulls her forward on the bed so he can get his face right up next to her cunt.

“Oh, he remembers,” he hears Paris say as he noses into her folds and licks, brings a hand down to thumb at her clit. Her muscles jump under his hands and he flicks his tongue as fast as he can, ignoring the ache starting in the muscle. He eases two fingers into her and crooks them, hears her gasp even as his own dick jumps at the feel of the wet, hot heat of her clenching down around his fingers.

“Shit, that’s so damn good. Rome, he’s so damn good. I missed this so fucking much,” Paris says, her voice trembling. She runs her hands over Mike’s head and holds him to her. He can hear her whisper, “you’re so good at this, babe, so damn good,” over and over, and her approval feels like it’s filling him up, like his skin’s all warm and tight and full with how amazing he feels. It’s like it’s a huge feedback loop between him and her, both of them making each other feel better and better.

“That’s right, baby, you’re making her feel real sweet right now,” Rome croons, her voice soothing so Mike floats even further into where it all feels good, where he’s being perfect for them. 

Paris’ hands clench on his shoulders and he can feel the sting of her nails digging in, the feeling somehow continuing to transform into the warm buzzing heat spreading through his muscles, gathering slowly and heavily in his balls. He fucks his fingers into Paris gently, curves and opens them out, as he flicks his tongue in rapid strokes along her clit and between his fingers, eager for the taste of her even as her muscles clench and spasm around him, her body bowing and shaking with the force of her orgasm.

“That’s enough now,” Rome tells him once Paris is still trembling, her body trying to back away from his fingers and mouth, oversensitive and swollen. But Mike almost doesn’t want to stop, really wishes he could keep going with Paris shaking all around him and Rome whispering in his ear, the two of them telling him how good he is, how much they want him. He feels like that could be enough, like he could come from that alone if he really tried.

But he listens and waits, stays like he’s supposed to while Rome gets Paris to settle more comfortably on the bed. He’s dripping onto the carpet between his knees, mind blank and still floating the the euphoric haze of having done everything the way he was supposed to by the time Rome pulls him up to sit on the bed.

“All right now, all right,” Rome murmurs, rubbing a gentle hand over his head and kissing him with long, chaste kisses that force him to breathe between them, his head slowly clearing as he starts to kiss back.

“You with me, baby?” she checks between kisses, and he nods wordlessly as he puts his arms out and pulls her closer, pleased when she sits easily on his lap. 

He palms her ass as she deepens the kisses. He’s greedy now, all that want and need from before catching up with him so he’s desperate, pulling away from Rome’s mouth to bite lightly at her shoulder, suck a hard kiss there after. He palms her breasts and nuzzles them through her bra, sucks a wet patch over her nipple, teeth catching in the lace.

She hisses and grabs his chin. “You want it that bad, huh?” she says, and pushes his hands down to the bedspread as she settles herself more firmly into his lap. He pulls her forward easily and grinds up into the curve of her pelvis, his dick staining her pants with precome.

“You said I could,” he points out, “you said,” his hips working, easily coming up off the bed even with Rome’s whole weight resting on them.

“Okay then. Show me,” she says, eyes narrowed like a challenge, watching him as he swears and works his hips against her cunt, a slow flush working its way under her skin and up to her cheeks. 

He’s so hard it hurts but he can’t seem to quite get it right, like he’s gone all the way to the end but he can’t quite get himself over the line. He gasps as his hips shake and shove and push against Rome’s, but it’s not enough. It’s just not enough yet. 

Mike clenches his teeth and tucks his face into the curve of her neck, breathes in the smell of sex and sweat and musk that’s pure Rome right now. 

“Rome,” he begs, “I need – it’s not enough, I need –”

But Rome’s right there with him, is already shushing him even as she holds his face steady. “Wait for me. Okay? Wait for your queen,” she says, voice flat like an order, and Mike nods, grateful that someone at least knows what they’re doing here.

She grabs his hands again and pushes them into the bedspread. “Paris, a little help,” she calls, and Paris presses up behind him, back with them now, and the familiar feel and smell of her surrounds him, helps ground him. Mike can feel her breasts against his neck as she leans forward to hold his hands in place.

“Stay and behave for your queen,” Rome says, holding his hands and waiting until he meets her eyes to squeeze as a quick check in. He squeezes back and nods. This is fine. He can do this. Paris drops a kiss on his neck and curls her hands around his wrists, more reminder than deterrent.

“Hold still, sweetheart,” Paris says, “and your queen’ll give you everything your heart desires.”

“Yeah,” Mike says. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, consciously relaxes his muscles. He can hear the rustle of clothes, knows abstractly that Rome’s taking the rest of her clothes off but can’t bring himself to look yet, still at the edge of overwhelmed. 

“That’s my guy,” Rome croons. “That’s right. You stay right there for me.”

Mike shudders as he feels her hand grasp his dick and roll a condom down its length, before there’s the hot, tight feel of her sinking down on him.

“Rome,” he chokes out, eyes flying open at the sensation, his voice too shattered to hide the way he’s pleading.

“That’s right,” she whispers, smiling at him like they’re in on a secret, her eyes flicking to check in with Paris as well as she drapes her arms over his shoulders. “You were so good tonight that you earned this. And now I’m going to take care of you.” She rolls her hips once, a smooth dancer’s move that slides him out and back in as her belly undulates.

“Did you know I used to dance too?” she whispers in his ear, her voice breathless, her hips moving in small circles, her back arching so sometimes he’s barely in her and sometimes she slams down on him in quick little curves.

“Shit,” Mike groans, “yeah, I knew.” It’s hard not to notice. Rome walks everywhere with a chip on her shoulder, but it’s definitely a dancer’s walk. 

“Want to touch me?” she taunts, and clenches down so tight that he shudders. Mike nods without even thinking about it because he does, god, he really does. 

“Then you better come for me first,” she tells him. For a second it’s as though everything in his body is drawn tight, frozen, before suddenly all of it is pushing out of him, like he’s being shoved right out of himself. Mike’s coming almost before he’s processed it, as if that’s all it was ever going to take, just Rome asking him for it. 

It’s almost terrifying, the feeling of being emptied out, of floating loose. Except that’s not quite right, because Rome is sitting on him holding him down and Paris has his wrists, the two of them anchoring him even now. Mike’s achingly grateful for it, that feeling of being held, precious and safe. 

Even now Rome’s still riding him, her hand working her clit as she chases her own orgasm and Mike’s transfixed by the sheer majesty of her. 

The slick slide of her sparks small shocks through him, halfway to uncomfortable with his cock slightly too sensitive but still hard, just beginning to soften. But he wants her to come, wants his cock to be what does it, so he braces his hands against the bed and works his own hips in counterpoint to hers, the two of them slapping together hard enough that he can feel the sting over the skin of his hips.

“Come here, baby,” he hears Paris murmur. “Come here and let me show you how I take care of my queen.” Paris molds herself to him as she leans over his shoulder just as Rome leans in, the two of them kissing as Rome works her hips and her clit, the small clasps and trembles of her orgasm beginning to work over Mike’s dick.


End file.
